


Star Wars: The Last Jedi [FIXED]

by NeonAtlas



Series: STAR WARS: THE SEQUEL TRILOGY FIXED [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Battle, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hope, anti-reylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonAtlas/pseuds/NeonAtlas
Summary: FIXING THE SEQUELS TRILOGYThe Resistance strives to stay ahead of The First Order, and hopes for help from it's Republic allies. Young Rey seeks guidance from Jedi-in-hiding Luke Skywalker so she can learn the ways of The Force, and defected storm-trooper Finn, and Resistance pilots Poe Dameron and Jessika Pava will have their faith in The Resistance tested as the powerful menace that is The First Order comes to haunt not only those at war, but also threatens the very foundations of the galaxy's future.
Relationships: Amilyn Holdo/Leia Organa, Armitage Hux & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Finn & Jessika Pava, Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Lando Calrissian & Finn, Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Yoda, Minor Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker - Relationship, Poe Dameron & Finn, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron & Jessika Pava, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Luke Skywalker, Snoke & Ben Solo
Series: STAR WARS: THE SEQUEL TRILOGY FIXED [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582291
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Star Wars: The Last Jedi [FIXED]

**Author's Note:**

> (EPISODE VIII | Star Wars: The Last Jedi fixed. Oh boy, this is going to be a long one... Probably the film that needs most changes done both in the plot and character development.)
> 
> IMPORTANT: This is my personal idea of how the three new main Star Wars movies could be improved with a few minor changes. If you don't like it, well... too bad. This is fiction after all, and not from your point of view, so if you are willing to see how this whole Disney thing can change (for the better, in my opinion), you are welcome to continue.
> 
> This Fixed version will NOT include the character of Rose Tico. I'm sorry, but I feel that the only reason she existed in the original was to be Finn's heterosexual and poorly written love interest (Disney is a coward in a lot of ways, and that should not be forgiven). Her lines about black and white morals were a little bit misplaced in my opinion, and the development of her story could have given us way more. I'm replacing most of her appearance in the film with a much more solid and better character: Poe's wild friend Jessika Pava.
> 
> Also, changes to Holdo's character, and a very important change for the utterly terrible "Lightspeed tracking device" plot. What the fuck was Rian Johnson thinking?

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

**STAR WARS**

**Episode VIII**

**THE LAST JEDI**

The FIRST ORDER reigns.

Having decimated the peaceful

Republic, Supreme Leader Snoke

now deploys his merciless

legions to seize military

control of the galaxy.

Only General Leia Organa’s

small band of RESISTANCE fighters

stand against the rising tyranny,

certain that Jedi

Master Luke Skywalker will

return and restore a spark of

hope to the fight.

But the Resistance has been

exposed. As the First Order

speeds toward the rebel base,

the brave heroes mount a

desperate escape…

* * *

Luke Skywalker stood in the cooling sands of Tatooine, his husband by his side.

The strip of sky at the horizon was still painted with the last orange of sunset, but the first stars had emerged. Luke peered at them, searching for something he knew was already gone.

“What did you think you saw?” Galen asked.

He could hear the affection in his voice—but if he listened harder, he could hear the weariness as well.

“Star Destroyer,” he said. “At least I thought so.”

“Then I believe you,” the other replied, one hand on his shoulder. “You could always recognize one—even at high noon.”

Luke smiled, thinking back to the long-ago day at Tosche Station when he’d burst in to tell his friends about the two ships sitting in orbit right above their heads. Galen hadn’t believed him—he’d peered through his old macrobinoculars before dismissively tossing them back to him and seeking refuge from the relentless twin suns. Fixer hadn’t believed him, either. Nor had Biggs.

But he’d been right.

His smile faded at the thought of Biggs Darklighter, who’d left Tatooine and died somewhere unimaginably far away. Biggs, who’d been his first friend. His only friend, he supposed.

His mind retreated from the thought, as quickly as if his bare hand had strayed to a vaporator casing at midday.

“I wonder what the Empire wanted out here,” he said, searching the sky again. Resupplying the garrison at Mos Eisley hardly required a warship the size of a Star Destroyer. These days, with the galaxy at peace, it hardly required a warship at all.

“Whatever it is, it’s got nothing to do with us,” Galen said. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Luke said, his eyes reflexively scanning the lights that marked the homestead’s perimeter. Such caution wasn’t necessary—no Tusken Raider had been seen this side of Anchorhead in two decades—but old habits died hard.

_The Tuskens are gone—nothing left of them but bones in the sand._

For some reason that made him sad.

“We’ve hit our Imperial quota for five years running,” Galen said. “And we’ve paid our water tax to Jabba. We don’t owe anybody anything. We haven’t done anything.”

“We haven’t done anything,” Luke agreed, though he knew that was no guarantee of safety. Plenty of things happened to people who hadn’t done anything—things that were never discussed again, or at least not by anyone with any sense.

His mind went back to the long-ago days he kept telling himself not to think about. The droids, and the message—a holographic fragment in which a regal young woman pleaded for Obi-Wan Kenobi to help her.

 _Let the past go._ That’s what Galen always told him. But staring into the darkness, Luke found that once again, he couldn’t take his advice.

The astromech droid had fled into the night while Luke was at dinner with his aunt and uncle. Fearing Uncle Owen’s fury, Luke had taken a risk, slipping away from the farm despite the threat of Tuskens.

But no Sand People had been on the prowl that night. Luke had found the runaway astromech and brought it back to the farm, pushing the landspeeder the last twenty meters to avoid waking Owen and Beru.

Luke smiled ruefully, thinking—as he so often did—about everything that could have gone wrong. He could easily have died, becoming one more foolhardy moisture farmer claimed by the Tatooine night and what lurked in it.

But he’d been lucky—and then lucky again the next day.

The stormtroopers had arrived just after Luke returned from working on the south ridge’s balky condensers—Owen and Beru’s source of aggravation then, his and Galen’s now. The sergeant was making demands even before he swung down from his dewback.

_A band of scavengers sold two droids to you. Bring them. Now._

Luke had almost needed to drag the droids out of the garage. The astromech hooted wildly, while the protocol droid kept babbling that he was surrendering. They’d stood in the relentless heat for more than an hour while the Imperials picked through the droids’ memory banks, with the stormtroopers curtly refusing Owen’s request to at least let Beru sit in the shade.

That was when old Ben Kenobi had appeared, shuffling out of the desert in his dusty brown robes. He’d spoken to the stormtroopers with a smile, like they were old friends running into each other at the Anchorhead swap meet. He’d told them, with a slight wave of one hand, that Luke’s identification was wrong—the boy’s last name wasn’t Skywalker, but Lars.

“That’s right,” Owen had said, his eyes jumping to Beru. “Luke Lars.”

Ben had lingered, telling the stormtroopers that there was no need to take Owen in for questioning. But they’d refused that request, and forced Luke’s uncle into the belly of a troop transport alongside the droids, with the astromech letting out a last, desperate screech before the hatch slammed.

They released Owen three days later, and he’d remained pale and silent during the long ride back from Mos Eisley. It was weeks before Luke got up his courage to ask if the Empire would compensate them. Owen snarled at him to forget it, then tucked his hands under his elbows—but not before Luke saw that they were trembling.

A meteor burned up overhead, shaking Luke out of his reverie.

“What are you thinking about now?” Galen asked, and his voice was wary. “That somehow I got old,” Luke said, tugging at his beard. “Old and gray.”

“You’re not the only one,” his husband replied, hand going to his own hair. Luke offered him a smile, but Galen was looking off into the night.

No one had ever seen old Ben again. But there’d been rumors—whispers about a gunship flying low over the Jundland Wastes, and fire in the night. In Anchorhead they dismissed that as cantina talk, but Luke wondered. The troops at the farm had been real. So were the ones who’d come to the Darklighter farm and taken Biggs’s family away. The Darklighters had never returned—the farm had been stripped by Jawas and Sand People, then left for the sand to bury.

Weeks had turned into months, months into years, years into decades. Luke turned out to have a knack for machinery, a feel for the maddening complexity of Tatooine growing conditions, and a talent for good outcomes, whether it was bargaining with Jawas or choosing sites for new vaporators. In Anchorhead, the boy once teased as Wormie was more often called Lucky Luke.

Galen had seen that, too—just as he’d noticed that Fixer talked a lot while doing little. He’d married Luke and they’d become partners with Owen and Beru before inheriting the farm. They’d worked hard and done well, building as comfortable a life as one could on Tatooine.

But Luke had never stopped dreaming about the girl who’d called out for Obi-Wan. Just last week he’d woken with a start, certain that the astromech was waiting for him in the garage, finally willing to play the full message for him. It was important that Luke hear it —there was something he needed to do. Something he was _meant_ to do.

After the stormtroopers took the droids, Luke assumed he’d never learn the mysterious young woman’s identity. But he’d been wrong. It had been blasted out over the HoloNet for weeks, ending with a final report that before her execution, Princess Leia Organa had apologized for her treasonous past and called for galactic unity.

Curiously, the Empire had never shared footage of those remarks, leaving Luke to remember his brief glimpse of the princess—and to wonder what desperate mission had caused her to seek out an old hermit on Tatooine.

Whatever it was, it had failed. Alderaan was a debris field now, along with Mon Cala, Ryloth, Christophsis and Chandrila—all destroyed by the battle station that had burned out the infections of Separatism and rebellion, leaving the galaxy at peace.

Or at least free of conflict. That was the same thing, or near enough.

He realized Galen was saying his name, and not for the first time.

“I hate it when you look like that,” he said.

“Look like what?”

“You know what I mean. Like you think something went wrong. Like you got cheated, and this is all a big mistake. Like you should have followed Tank and Biggs, and gone to the Academy like you wanted to. Like you were meant to be far away from here.”

“Galen—”

“Far away from me,” the other man said in a smaller voice, turning away with his arms across his chest.

“You know I don’t feel that way,” he said, placing his hands on his husband’s shoulders and trying to ignore the way he stiffened at his touch. “We’ve made a good life, and this is where I was meant to be. Now come on—let’s go inside. It’s getting cold.”

Galen said nothing, but he let Luke lead him back toward the dome that marked the entrance to the homestead. Standing on the threshold, Luke lingered for a last look up into the night. But the Star Destroyer—if that was indeed what it had been—hadn’t returned.

After a moment, he turned away from the empty sky.

* * *

Luke woke with a start, instinctively scooting up to a seated position. His mechanical hand whirred in protest, echoing the thrum of the insects that lived in the hardy grasses of Ahch-To.

He tried to shake away the dream as he dressed, donning his woolens and waterproof jacket. He opened the metal door of his hut, then shut it quietly behind him. It was nearly dawn, with the pale coming day a glimmer like a pearl on the horizon, above the black void of the sea.

The oceans of Ahch-To still astonished him—an infinity of water that could transform from blank and placid to roiling chaos. All that water still seemed impossible—at least in that way, he supposed, he was still a child of the Tatooine deserts.

Farther down the slopes, he knew, the Caretakers would soon rise to begin another day, as they had for eons. They had work to do, and so did he—they because of their ancient bargain, and he because of his own choice.

He’d spent his youth resenting chores on Tatooine; now they gave structure to his days on Ahch-To. There was milk to harvest, fish to catch, and a loose stone step to be put right.

But not quite yet.

Luke walked slowly up the steps until he reached the meadow overlooking the sea. He shivered—the summer was almost gone, and the dream still had him in its grip.

_That was no ordinary dream, and you know it._

Luke raised the hood of his jacket with his mechanical hand, stroking his beard with the flesh-and-blood one. He wanted to argue with himself, but he knew better. The Force was at work here—it had cloaked itself in a dream, to slip through the defenses he’d thrown up against it.

But was the dream a promise? A warning? Or both?

_Things are about to change. Something’s coming._


End file.
